


Joy to the World

by theglamourfades



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 14:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17143901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: Christmas 1925 proves to be a quieter affair at Downton Abbey, but merriment and excitement is still in the air - particularly for Mr and Mrs Bates.





	Joy to the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kristen_APA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristen_APA/gifts).



> My gift as part of the Banna Secret Santa Exchange 2018 on Tumblr to the most wonderful Kristen_APA a.k.a. angel-princess-anna!
> 
> I hope this is the kind of thing you had in mind, and most of all I hope you enjoy and have a very Merry Christmas *hearts*

Christmas was to be a quieter affair for the Crawleys this year, what with another significant event taking place not too long after, and the news had been met largely with good reception. Unsurprisingly Lady Mary was the one to voice opposition the loudest but happily not because of any ill-feeling that persisted between herself and her younger sister (it had to be said that their relationship was the most harmonious it had ever been); rather it was down to the fact that it was Mr Talbot's first Christmas as part of the family and she was most keen for him to experience every aspect of the season as she knew it from as far back as she could remember. However after gentle persuasion from her husband himself she was soon convinced that the restrained celebrations would be no less magical.

Downstairs, there was a sense of relief more than anything else; the walls of the servants' hall and quarters could almost be felt to release a satisfied sigh of exultation. Whilst there would still be much to be done in preparation for the festivities – from habit as much as from demand – nobody would quibble about scaling back. There might even be more time for their  _own_  preparations; afternoons out or carol singing, making paper chains with which to decorate the hall and devising joyful games. For the younger members of staff – though there were not as many as there had been even a year ago – it was an incredibly exciting prospect, to be afforded some freedom and choice on how they would celebrate.

The more experienced amongst them were enlivened by the youngers' exuberance, while quietly thankful for the respite and an easier time ahead. Though she would not speak her mind entirely freely for not wishing to cause embarrassment or shame to her nearest and dearest, Mrs Hughes was glad – not to mention extremely grateful – that no unnecessary strain would fall upon Mr Carson's shoulders. She had wanted him to slow down since before Lady Mary had wed again but he was nothing if not unwaveringly stubborn and faithfully dutiful in two equal parts. At least with the order having come from Lord Grantham himself she had greater peace of mind in being assured that he would adhere to it.

Most pleased of all that the season would not be accompanied by its usual hullabaloo was Mr Bates. Somewhat conversely so, as he was the giddiest he had been about Christmas for many years. His restlessness was, for the most part, kept contained, showing itself less in his actions and demeanour than his looks and his words, which were always softened, especially when they were directed to his wife. His eyes were rarely off Anna whenever they were sharing the same vicinity, even though he would have much preferred it if they were comfortably situated in their own home with a fire roaring in the hearth and a blanket over her knees. She happened to share Mr Carson's qualities – if not quite to the same intense degree – and so was seeing things through with even more determination than was usual.

She was also one amongst the household who had the greatest fondness for the time of year that so hastily approached, and given how the previous Christmas had gone he had no wish to dampen her excitement about all which surrounded. More than anyone she deserved to revel in the occasion and as long as she was enjoying herself then he would be a happy observer.

Then again, they both knew that this year it was not just Christmas that caused her to be so elated.

* * *

Anna could feel a set of eyes upon her as she worked with the needle and thread, carefully replacing the loose pearl button on the blouse laid out on the table in front of her with another. They were not her husband's this time – quite a rare occurrence now, indeed – as he was occupied elsewhere in the house. She continued on with her stitch, only stopping to return the gaze when she had completed, snipping off the end of the length of the thread with the small pair of scissors.

Miss Baxter was caught somewhat unawares, a hue of faint colour flushing into her cheeks. She smiled genuinely, lessening the atmosphere. Anna had had the same questions put to her for at least three months now, by most of her fellow staff, and though her answers remained the same she was not unappreciative that they had been asked. It was nice that they wanted to share in the experience and had her best interests at heart.

"I would be happy to do that for you, once I've finished with this."

Anna shook her head. "It's quite alright. I'd rather have something to keep my hands occupied."

She had had too many cups of tea already, losing count of the times she had needed to excuse herself to the lavatory. At this stage she hardly required the tea to do so.

The other lady's maid did no more to argue, smiling again and returning to her own mending. It was a task that required more mental concentration than physicality and so it was something she was still able to do as well as she ever could, not to mention that she was more than comfortable sitting in the rocking chair with the weight off her feet. She shifted very gently in the seat, back and forth, the baby seeming to enjoy the movement too. It was at peace, perhaps because of the repetitive actions of the needle and thread as well, and she was possessed by a wonderfully warm feeling to imagine their child curled up snug and cosy inside of her.

Safe and happy.

She was on her feet very little now, and really, there was not much that she was required for, having lessened her duties considerably. Lady Mary could dress herself quite well, though Anna still liked to be there in the morning and evening to compare notes – it was a weight from her mind to know that her mistress had been prone to very similar aches and pains when she had been in the same condition some years ago. She was managing with the hairdryer too, which had become less of a strange novelty now, although perhaps she could benefit from a few more lessons before being completely adroit.

It was not out of need or necessity that Anna remained at Downton Abbey in the latter stages of pregnancy. Even though he would be more than willing to do so she could not have asked or expected John to give up his position just because she could no longer perform hers, and being alone in the cottage was not appealing – especially not when she thought back to twelve months ago. Life was far, far happier now, much to their delights. Thankfully John had shared her opinion that it was better for her to be at the house, close to where he was should anything happen before it was expected to.

She paused in her sewing to tap her fingers against the well-worn wood of the table, uttering a quick  _bad harvest_  to herself, just to be on the safe side.

Besides there were fewer places better to be than the Abbey in the lead-up to Christmas. She didn't know different, of course, but there was a special atmosphere she was certain could not be rivalled by other households in the same standing. There were luxuries that she was not ready to surrender just yet, one being Mrs Patmore's many cookery trials before the big day itself. She was in luck as this evening the cook was testing out a new recipe for mince pies, a tempting aroma wafting in from the kitchen and causing her stomach to grumble and her mouth to water in anticipation.

It was not for much longer that she would be able to use the excuse of needing to eat for two, although she supposed that she could say that she required the extra calories for keeping her strength up once the baby was born.

Daisy came through into the hall, Anna's heart sinking a little when she saw that the younger woman had not brought any of the treats in with her. She huffed dramatically, complaining that Mrs Patmore was being too particular and made her taste too much of the mixture as she carried out little changes here and there, when she didn't even like mince pies anyway and the cook should have known that by now but clearly thought it was fun to tease her.

Anna and Miss Baxter listened fondly, Miss Baxter's eyes widening whilst Anna hid the smile that wished to burst onto her lips. She suspected that Daisy was grumbling all the more because soon enough she wouldn't get the chance. Another one to fly the nest. It didn't seem like all that much time had passed since she was a nervous scullery maid, jumping at the sound of Mrs Patmore's shouting as well as the unexpected ringing of a bell. And most things, really.

Now she had no such trouble, possessing a confidence that extended far beyond her own beliefs.

"She could at least make gingerbread. I like that. But no," Daisy placed her hands on her hips, mimicking the cook's posture and tone of voice, "  _'it's not grand enough, silly girl_ '. I might just make it anyway. I bet a shilling that the children would much rather have gingerbread than horrible mince pies."

"I wouldn't mind having some of either," Anna announced, looking up from her latest stitch, "I'm absolutely ravenous. If someone spilled salt and pepper over it I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't try and eat the table."

"Well, you have good reason," Miss Baxter smiled broadly. "How are you feeling, aside from that?"

"Mainly tired. And I seem to be getting even bigger with every hour that passes. Other than that..."

She rested the mending in her lap, placing one hand beneath her huge bump and the other one on top. It was a pose that she reverted to often; she felt that it was the most encompassing and protective of their little one.

"...I'm quite fine." She beamed, not at all self-conscious of the fact. Inside, she felt the baby shift, an elbow or a knee – she couldn't quite discern which, even now – nudging under her ribs. "I'm used to it all now. I really just need to brace myself for what comes next."

What would come very soon indeed.

She noticed Daisy's expression change as she stared, the colour draining from her cheeks. Over the course of the past few months, ever since her pregnancy had become common knowledge amongst the house, Daisy had asked her all manner of questions. Typically about how things felt and whether or not they were  _strange_. She didn't mind a bit in answering them, even if she was careful not to divulge too much. It would likely be a few years yet for Daisy, but Anna was conscious not to frighten the poor girl unnecessarily.

There was one question that she would often return to, and now it seemed more pertinent than ever – at least to the younger woman.

"Are you...scared?"

"I think I'd say  _apprehensive_ ," Anna replied, a gentle smile upon her face and one hand rubbing her bump slightly, " _uncertain_ , as well. But most of all I'm excited to meet this little one."

It was still somewhat surreal to think that in less than a month their child would be out in the world and that she would be holding him or her in her arms. At the minute they were keeping her awake for most of the night with their wriggling and fidgeting but really she suspected it was only part of the problem and it was her anticipation that was stopping her from being able to sleep instead.

She was also beyond thankful that she was able to embrace the feeling, rather than being so fearful that something might go wrong. Really, the latter stages of her pregnancy had been the most enjoyable, something she expected was not common for most other women.

"Have you got any names in mind?" Miss Baxter asked, steering them into calmer waters.

"Mr Bates and I have talked about it." There were a few nights as summer shifted to autumn where they discussed very little else, and the topic had arisen again as the time got closer. "We have two or three each that we've agreed upon, but we're not sure that we can settle until we can see what they look like, and whether they suit it."

"I don't think I look much like a Daisy," Daisy pondered, "I weren't even born in spring, so I don't know where it came from."

"What would you have liked to have been called instead?" Miss Baxter enquired.

"I'm not sure..."

" _That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet_."

Anna looked to the doorway on hearing her husband's intonation, smiling as she watched him striding into the hall. She couldn't help but wonder if he had been standing just outside for some time, his frame bent so he fit into one of the nooks, listening out for the slightest murmur or groan of minor discomfort from her.

"Oh no, not Rose," Daisy frowned towards him. "Not that there's anything wrong with Rose, it fits Lady Aldridge very well. I don't think she'd like me having the same name as well, though."

"It's from  _Romeo and Juliet_ ," he went on to say, moving to stand next to the rocking chair, "to say that it's not important what something or someone is called, but that the real worth is in what or who they are."

"Oh," Daisy flushed a little, hiding under her cap. "I never got round to that one. Mrs Patmore said it were too miserable."

"She's not entirely wrong," Anna chipped in, glancing up towards John. "But the saying does do quite well. Even if you weren't Daisy, you'd still be Daisy to us. Because you're you, and that's all that...sorry, I'm not making a lot of sense, am I?"

"I think you're entitled not to," Miss Baxter interjected with a smile, being very polite.

"The wind is getting up outside. If I didn't know better, I'd say that we could be in for some snow." He was crouching slightly to speak into her ear, which was preferable to ignoring the others that were in the room – not that he could ever be rude, only absorbed by her presence. "His Lordship said that he's happy to do without assistance this evening, which means that we can get going soon."

She smiled slyly, knowing exactly what he was up to. The cautious, impatient edge to his words did melt her heart.

"I'm alright to stay a little while longer. I'd like to get this finished and not have to take it home with me."

"If you're sure."

His voice remained soft, only very gently beseeching.

"I am," she nodded.

"Very well," he replied, smiling genuinely from his eyes. "Is there anything I can fetch for you? Another lamp? Or a shawl, perhaps. There's something of a draught in here, I should mention it to Mrs Hughes, or Andy. I'm sure he could see where it was coming from and solve it."

It was quite out of the ordinary for her husband to ramble so much, or at least it  _had_ been.

"I don't want for anything," she assured him, though in the next second she changed her mind on the matter. Stilling her needle again she reached a hand up to where he stood, smiling wide as he took her fingers and laced them with his instantly. "Other than you to sit beside me, if you can spare the time."

He returned her smile with one of his own, which warmed her better than any extra garment or fire stoked in the grate.

"Always," he uttered, stroking his thumb against the curve of her hand.

He let go of her fingers one by one, reluctant to do so but also needing to claim a chair for himself.

"Actually, there is something," she said, causing him to turn sharply and almost spring back to her side, "you can ask Mrs Patmore if I might have the first sample of her mince pies, when they're ready."

She hoped it would be soon, as she certainly wasn't going to be leaving until she'd had at least one.

* * *

"I don't fuss too much, do I?"

Cautious even in his words, Anna could not help but smile at her husband's sincere question. It struck her in that instant how the armchair he favoured was much too small for him, his shoulders hunched and his legs draping out across the floor. She hadn't really noticed it before and the image only added to her amusement.

"I ought not to tell a white lie, not when this one can hear everything we say."

The frown that marked his face caused her heart to fill up further with love. He remained in contemplation for a moment or two, until his gaze dropped to where she was idly cradling her stomach with her palm. From over her needles she watched the beaming smile bloom, almost enough to put the lamps out and still give enough light for her to see what she was doing.

Yes, he did fuss terribly – and it had only got worse as the weeks had went on – but she knew that she could not complain. In the beginning she had not wanted to think too much about how the prospect of impending fatherhood would alter her stoic Mr Bates, even if her mind and her heart wished to betray her intentions. She had been able to relax since the summertime, and since the leaves on the trees had turned to rust and gold had done nothing but revel quietly in the joy that he expressed, in his own ways. He may not have shouted from the rooftops nor stopped every man he passed in the street – which would not have been to her favour, anyway – but the way in which he glowed with pride whenever someone so much looked at her or commented on how well she appeared meant the entire world to her, bringing dreams that she had held so dear for years most wonderfully to life like bursts of colour lighting the purple-dark sky.

"You should go up soon, though," he said softly, observing how her hands worked swiftly with the ball of wool, "between that and your work you haven't stopped all day."

"It's early yet," she replied, glancing up to see the shadowed look of concern firmly back in his eyes. "You know as well as I do that I'll be awake for half of the night, so I may as well stay up."

"You don't need to sleep. Rest is just as good." He paused when he registered the look she gave him. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't go on, but I can't seem to stop myself."

A smile filled her cheeks, the attentive care that he furnished her with warming her from the inside. Heaven only knows what he would be like when the baby was here. It alarmed her a little to realise how soon that would be.

"I don't blame you," she sought to reassure him before he could further berate himself, for no good reason. "You are right. The last week I've been at risk of falling asleep again at breakfast."

As though talking and thinking in combination was too much for her to resist, she stifled a sudden yawn with the back of her hand. She was hardly in control of her body and it would be nice to tip the balance at least a little.

"I'm afraid that we might have a night owl on our hands, Mr Bates."

He grinned, the slightest mention of their child causing the reaction in him. It was a sight that she would never tire of admiring.

"I don't see that being a problem," he uttered, stretching his legs out yet further over the rug.

"Perhaps not for you," she retorted, "you're not the one who will have to feed them several times before the sun is up."

Neither of them expected that it would be easy. There would be incredibly early starts and very late nights, tears as well as many joys. Their lives would be changed completely by this little person, half of her and half of him (and she did wonder most moments of the day which parts would be taken from each of them, seeing their child in her mind's eye with a very serious but utterly lovable countenance, just like their father. Tall, too, as time went on). A dream with the most gracious blessing to be made real. A miracle, in many ways.

But they were both from sturdy stock, endurance woven into their bones. Any efforts that their child brought to them would be welcomed, wholeheartedly.

Coming through the very worst had only solidified her beliefs that the very best was all but guaranteed, and now she was confident enough to tease about it.

"Well, I had better pamper you while you still have enough time to enjoy it." He moved fluidly, his frame returning to its natural state. "Another cup of tea?"

Her bladder was at war with her enough as it was but she found that she could not pass up the offer, coming from her John, in unbuttoned waistcoat and rolled-up shirtsleeves. Decidedly the opposite of  _stoic_  when they were alone.

He came back with a pot, meaning that they would be up for another hour at the very least. His cup kept him from finding something else to worry over, sipping steadily whilst she went on with her knitting, reminding herself to stop at regular intervals otherwise her own cup would go cold.

"Christmas  _does_  feel different this year," she mused between purl and knit.

"It certainly is for me," he replied with another smile on the verge of a grin.

 _Silly beggar_ , she thought but did not state aloud. She loved how at ease he was, mixed with his sheer happiness. Certainly, they would have the most wonderful of Christmases regardless of what occurred elsewhere.

"I suppose that it will all be fine in the end. I just imagined that there would be more to it than His Lordship really suggested."

"They're hardly living like paupers," John chuckled, putting his cup and saucer onto the table and picking up the book that had lain in his lap since he had come through from the kitchen. "Lady Edith's wedding will be the showstopper this year. And deservedly so."

She had to agree on that point. Her loyalty was primarily with Lady Mary but she could not deny that Lady Edith had been dealt much more than her fair share of misfortune.

"Still, it seems a little strange, especially with the children."

She was usually not one to look too far ahead into the future but just thinking of the Crawley children caused her to imagine their own little one a few years older, thrilled to pieces at the thought of Christmas being so close. It was a season for children after all, and though she wished very much to cherish every precious moment and not hurry time along, a part of her confessed to being impatient for the years that were to come.

"It is a little early just yet," now he was the one to speak words of assurance, "and His Lordship is a soft touch when it comes to them. All it needs is a 'Donk' from Miss Sybbie and he'll be rolling around on the floor with Tia'a, pretending to be Rudolph."

Anna broke into laughter at the absurd yet quite believable image. The baby responded to her impromptu fit of hysterics by kicking rather hard, which was a sensation that she had become used to but not grown fully accustomed. At this late stage it was not like being tickled, more like being socked firmly in the gut, but both feelings were truly wondrous.

They had talked about how they would spend Christmas Day, which really was the entirety of their holiday season, save for the Servants' Ball in early January. This year they would be otherwise occupied to attend that, although Anna did not object to bringing the baby along if she felt up to it. John felt somewhat differently, even if when the time came she suspected that he would be so overcome with pride that he wouldn't refuse the opportunity to parade their son or daughter to the household.

As with the later occasion they were in two minds but able to see it from the other's perspective. John was the likelier to bend, always eager to place Anna's wishes above all else and all the more so after the last few years they had had. Their conversation this evening had only served to set them into stone.

She smiled as he raised his gaze to the ceiling, knowing that he would prefer for them to have the day entirely to themselves. He was much more himself when it was just the two of them, together. Their friends and employers would be more than a little surprised to know of John's true nature if she ever wished to tell them, but she didn't.

However she did want to stick to tradition, at least before whole new ones could be made.

"We needn't be there the whole day," she said, attempting to soften the blow, "we'll arrive at midday and stay for luncheon and the afternoon. Perhaps a little bit of the evening too."

"We'll see how you feel," he intoned, "I don't want you to tire yourself out. I'm sure nobody else does, either, before you complain."

She shook her head at him, the smile shining and light from the lamp nearest to her shining in her eyes. "I'm quite certain that everyone wants to make sure that I'm comfortable." Perhaps not quite to the same extent as John, but then again his feats were impossible to rival. "We're down on numbers this year. If we're not there then they'll be eating turkey for weeks to come."

She joked about it but there was a melancholy about the fact. The Crawleys employed fewer staff and in the last couple of months some of the most familiar faces had departed for pastures new and so the arrangement of the dinner table would be quite different indeed. No Mr Molesley, no Thomas. It was funny how this time of year in particular brought with it a feeling that things should forever remain the same.

Of course, change was inevitable. Nobody, not even the Crawleys, could stave off the march of time and its shifting tides.

Christmas was also a time for family, and it was important to her that they should spend a deal of it with the people who were as good as that to them. Next year things would be quite different, with their own family to take precedence.

"If I must, then I suppose I can make the sacrifice." His sardonic tone was entirely at odds with the affection that covered his expression.

"Oh, next time you go into Thirsk or Ripon, could you pick a little something up for Miss Baxter? Some nice chocolates or a couple of embroidered handkerchiefs. She's been very good these past few months, taking on more than she should."

"She did agree to doing the heavier of your duties. I don't see how she could rightly refuse."

Anna dipped her head in thought, focusing intently on her task. "Since Mr Molesley has gone she hasn't been as...well, I want her to realise that she still has friends who care about her, and not just for the things she must do."

She looked up again to find John staring, the intensity of his gaze deeply affecting.

"You have a heart made of pure gold, Mrs Bates," he uttered, "I can only hope that our child should inherit it from you."

"Go away with you," she tutted, knowing that if their little one were to take after John completely and have none of her traits then it would be the luckiest, most beautiful child on earth, both inside and out.

After a little while she did begin to tire, her eyelids drooping despite her efforts to stay awake. The room was cosy and warm, and the feeling of being cared for so completely cradled her in the deepest comfort. She folded the scarf in her lap, her progress so much this evening that she was nearly finished with it.

The trouble was that she could not reach either to her sides or very far in front of her to hide it from her husband's sight.

"I'm afraid your presents won't be much of a surprise this year," she said, cheeks flushing slightly as he padded closer across the floor. "At least you haven't seen the jumper yet."

She saw him smile fondly before he bent, pressing his lips tenderly to her temple.

"Not to worry," his voice lilted in her ear, "you've already given me the best gift that I could hope for."

* * *

She was making her way from the laundry room back to the servants' hall when the sound of gleeful laughter stopped her in her tracks. It became louder within the space of seconds, and she realised quickly that it belonged to the children. A delighted smile crept onto her lips as she smoothed the material of her maternity uniform, placing a hand firmly against her bump.

She could not go unseen as she crossed the floor and her size meant that her movements had become much slower.

"Anna!" Lady Mary appeared from behind the tree that stretched up high. "You must come and have a closer look."

"If I wouldn't be in the way."

"Of course not."

Her mistress walked towards her, extending her arm but not going quite so far as to take Anna's hand; there were still boundaries in place. She ambled nearer, able to smell the scent of the pine, something that unmistakably heralded the true arrival of the season at the Abbey.

At either side stood Mr Branson, who had a sleepy Marigold in his arms, and Mr Talbot, standing on a stepladder to reach the higher portions of the tree. Below, Miss Sybbie and Master George scurried to and fro, unable to stay still for longer than two seconds at a time and quite overwhelmed by the shimmering tinsel and shiny baubles that hung from the branches.

"What do you think of our efforts this year?" Lady Mary asked eagerly, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I think it's marvellous, m'lady," Anna responded, her neck craning slightly to take in the whole spectacle. "Truly, you've outdone yourself."

She turned her head to see a gratified smile covering Lady Mary's face.

"It's not quite finished yet, but nearly." Her mistress looked towards Mr Talbot, who sensed that he was being observed and returned his wife's lingering gaze with a smile of his own. "I'm glad to know that it meets with your approval."

"Certainly, m'lady."

It was lovely to see Lady Mary so visibly happy. It had been a year of some turbulence, the way not being clear by any means. Anna had been glad when she had come to her decision to follow her heart instead of the words of others, and since she had married Mr Talbot she had become noticeably more at ease. Christmas had become a difficult time in many respects, taking place not really that long after the terrible tragedy of Mr Crawley's unexpected and untimely passing, and inevitably full of memories. This year, for the first time since, she was able to see a new light in her mistress's eyes; one which told her that she could truly enjoy the season again.

Anna became aware of a little person standing in front of her, and she smiled down at Master George as he looked up at her with his big blue eyes. He was a little shy and turned his gaze towards his mother, awaiting her approval.

"Go on, George," Lady Mary said, with a relaxed edge to her tone that was most uncommon for Anna to be witness to, "Mrs Bates won't bite."

Anna stopped herself from chuckling at her mistress's comment, smiling wider to compensate for being unable to crouch down to Master George's height.

He did not say anything but instead held out a decoration in his small, open palm, gesturing that he wished for Anna to take it.

"For me?" she asked, to affirm that was in fact what he desired.

His fair head gave a nod and his expression shifted from bashful hesitance to a burgeoning smile which puffed out his rosy cheeks. Anna felt her heart swell, taking the trinket by its loop of string from the boy's fingers. It seemed like an incredible honour and her emotions, which could tumble all over the place at the most mundane of moments at the present time, overwhelmed her quite, tears pricking at her eyes.

Perhaps she was imagining doing the very same thing with her own child in some years to come.

"Thank you, Master George," she told the young lad, watching as he hopped back to the foot of the tree. Her own movements were far slower and she became conscious of children's natural sense of impatience. "You might have to help me."

He pointed to the branch he had in mind, and Anna gave a gracious nod of her head, thankful that it was directly in front of her and easily within reach. She placed the Nutcracker figurine with careful fingers, making sure that it faced forward and did not twist around to hide itself amongst the bulk of the tree.

When she was satisfied, she looked down at Master George who wore a joyful smile on his face.

"I think he looks very smart and at home there. Do you?"

The boy nodded his head eagerly, staring up at her with eyes that shone as much to rival all of the adornments on the tree.

"What do we say, George?" his mother's voice sounded out from behind where they stood, mindful that he should not forget his manners.

"Thank you, Mrs Bates," he uttered in a small and soft voice that utterly melted her heart.

"You're very welcome," she replied, smiling down at the boy and then turning towards his mother, nodding her own thanks that she should play even a small part in such an important family ritual.

She stayed a little longer to watch the final flourishes being put into place, admiring the traditional grandeur. Mr Talbot lifted little Marigold steadily in his arms; as the youngest child she was bestowed the honour of placing the star on top of the tree, and Lady Edith arrived back from her hair appointment in York to witness the moment proudly, taking off her gloves and applauding.

"I know it's for the children, but I do admit to getting quite giddy by it all myself."

Anna turned at the sound of Mr Branson's voice at her side, glad to see that she wasn't alone in grinning like a fool at the scene, quite beyond her own control.

"It's very special," she agreed.

The children were most lucky at being able to partake in such a tradition. Of course she didn't have the same thing growing up, although she was blessed with the love of both parents, before her father passed. She supposed that she was still a child herself when she came to the Abbey, and so the ways in which the Crawleys marked the season had become embedded in her own ideas and images surrounding it.

In the years since herself and John had been married they had made their own traditions, even if they had not always been able to see them through together. This year they could properly celebrate, and she was eager for more little things to add as their family became a unit – and perhaps even grew. But that was a hope for another time; right now there was more than enough joy and happiness, if there was much more of it she wasn't sure she'd be able to stay quite so reserved.

"When's the big day?"

"Just on two weeks," Anna replied, putting her hand in place.

Mr Branson smiled. "And you're still going."

"It's what I'm used to," she told him, "if it were up to Mr Bates I'd be tucked up in bed with the covers up to my neck, not moving a muscle."

"I don't blame him. I remember how nervous I was when Sybil was..."

His voice stopped as he caught himself, looking towards the tree and its grand display, and Anna felt horrified.

"Oh, Mr Branson, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...you must forgive me."

He shook his head as his eyes fell upon her again. "Please don't apologise. It was a wonderful time, one of the best of my life. I'm glad to think back on it."

She smiled in empathy, seeing how he watched out for his daughter, laughing at her excited display skipping around the circle of the tree. Miss Sybbie bore a stronger resemblance to Lady Sybil as the years went on, a bittersweet reminder.

"And you needn't call me  _Mr Branson_ ," he continued with a grin, "it wasn't all that long ago that we were working side by side."

Anna flushed a little, but then that wasn't unusual at all at the moment.

"Very well," she replied with a smile.

"Will you be coming along this evening?"

"Oh yes, we couldn't miss the carols. Though I think we'll be leaving soon after."

She thought back to last year and how the evening was cut short for reasons altogether different. It had been the best present she could have hoped for, to have John back when she had started to believe that she might never have laid eyes upon him again.

She might have dreamed, but she could never have truly imagined twelve months ago that they would find themselves where they were now.

"Well, I shall wait to give you both my best," he exclaimed, "but I must say that I am delighted for you. I know that you'll take to it like ducks to water. Enjoy every moment."

She was feeling quite overcome, something she had not expected. She said a very sincere thank you to her former colleague, now a fully-fledged man of the house, and excused herself, stating that she really must get back to work.

Once she was downstairs she took a short detour to the kitchen, filling a glass of water. She took a couple of sips before reaching for the salt. If John was in the house he would have had a fit to see her so much as getting onto her tiptoes. She gulped down the glass quickly, wincing a little, but knowing that her stomach would feel better for it in due course.

"Anna?" She heard Mrs Hughes before she could see her. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. She was looking forward to the day when everyone would stop asking whether she was well every five minutes. "I never get used to the taste."

The housekeeper frowned a little. "Where is Mr Bates?"

"Running an errand for his Lordship in Thirsk."

"On Christmas Eve? Heavens, I hope he's back in time for dinner. I don't see why Andy couldn't have gone instead."

"I don't expect things to change for me, Mrs Hughes," Anna replied, knowing what the housekeeper was implying. "I wouldn't want them to, either. And it'll remain the same for another fortnight. At least if this one decides to stay put."

"Well, you never know with babies," Mrs Hughes said, more anticipation than trepidation in her voice. "But I still wish that you would rest."

"I'm fine," Anna insisted. The salt was already working its magic and she was feeling much more in-sorts than she had been five minutes previous.

"If you say so," the housekeeper said with another frown. "You know, I'm just getting the chance to sit down again since first thing this morning. What a week it's been. For a quiet Christmas there's certainly been a lot to see to."

Anna nodded in agreement, though she had not been in the thick of it.

"Why don't I put the kettle on, and we can take a breather in my sitting room?"

"Oh, Mrs Hughes – "

Before she could argue otherwise, she was promptly cut off.

"I won't take no for an answer, I'm afraid."

Anna found herself smiling. "That would be nice, thank you."

"I'll fetch the biscuits too," the housekeeper smiled as she passed, tapping Anna lightly on the shoulder.

As she waited for Mrs Hughes to return she let out a breath, holding her stomach with both hands. She felt the baby roll onto its side, smiling to herself when not a minute later they returned to their previous position. They were impatient as she was, it seemed.

"Don't worry, sweet pea," she uttered in a soothing, almost sing-song voice to her bump, so big by now that it meant she could no longer see down to the floor past it, "Da will be back very soon."

* * *

He had been lucky with the bus and would get back to the Abbey before the sun set, which was quite early in the day indeed at the moment. First he was stopping off at the cottage to deposit the things he had bought that were not on his Lordship's list.

It was fairly easy to hide them, the best place being anywhere near to the ground. Anna would still endeavour to reach up for the odd thing, even though he fretted whenever she tried. Bending was not an option, however, so he was confident in slipping the few items purchased in low-down drawers or underneath the bed, looking rather pleased with himself for being so crafty.

He already knew that she would chide him for buying her gifts, especially when she could not reciprocate. Yet he had made his feelings on the matter quite clear; there certainly was not a greater present that he could receive than knowing that in no time at all their child would be with them. Not that they weren't already here, of course – they had been at home in his heart ever since that glorious day in the spring when she had given him the news that he had so longed to hear, and he loved nothing better than cradling Anna's stomach when they headed to bed each night, talking to it in a gentle voice to ensure that the baby would be familiar with his voice. He would miss the nightly ritual, the intimate moment between the three of them the highlight of each day.

But to think of their child being in his arms – much better still, in Anna's while he observed the dearest two people in his life; it was something he could not yet comprehend. Perfection was hard to accurately predict until it came to be.

He wanted to spoil his wife, too. She had endured so much, even since last Christmas when he had hoped with all of his heart that their troubles were coming to a swift end. He had done his very best to make that season a happy one for her, unable to foresee the pain that was still to come. Thankfully the year had provided more sunshine than it had showers and he tried not to be too presumptuous in thinking that the brightest days were still ahead.

That was a rather funny thing to think, when the snow was swirling in the air.

Satisfied that he had done a good enough job in putting the gifts out of sight – unfortunately they would have to go without wrapping paper, unless he could manage to sneakily do so late in the night or early in the morning – he placed the box of chocolates he had bought from Anna and himself for Miss Baxter onto the table in the sitting room, and then put his gloves back on, bracing himself to head out into the cold once more. Usually he did not care for the winter weather, knowing that it would aggravate his leg. However not even the iciest blast could lower his mood at the moment.

Anna - and their little one - would be waiting for him with open arms when he got back to the Abbey, and it would be the warmest welcome he could ever hope to receive.

* * *

John was the first to wake on Christmas morn. He lay for a while in the warm cocoon of their bed, blissful in the dawn silence and counting his many blessings, and then rose, being careful not to disturb Anna. He had felt her shifting throughout the night, inevitably, but she had not stirred each time for longer than a minute or so, and he was incredibly glad that she had been afforded a peaceful slumber.

He glanced out of the curtains that sealed further warmth in their room, seeing the bright and dewy sun and the dusting of snow that had settled the morning previous now completely faded, and had to admit that he was pleased about that. There would be many more Christmases for a heavier snowfall.

He pottered around downstairs but did not take too long before returning, sitting in the rocking chair at the foot of the bed which they had acquired for the purpose of Anna nursing and reading to himself, the sunlight that was gradually growing stronger making its way through the small gap in the curtains, wanting to be a part of the idyllic morning.

A smile grew upon his face when he heard Anna's murmurs from beneath the covers, her head peeking from the pillow.

"Good morning," he offered softly.

"Mmmm, morning." She sat up slowly and he was at the bedside in an instant, propping the pillows and smiling into her sleep-worn face. "What time is it?"

He became aware that he did not know himself – though judging by the light outside it was not all that early – and reached for the pocket watch at his bedside.

"Quarter past eight."

"Heavens," Anna exclaimed, the aftermath of sleep still audible in her voice as well as the note of pleasant surprise, "I woke up natural, for once."

John reflected his wife's smile back towards her. "You needed it. Merry Christmas."

The joy in her tone made his heart sing. "Merry Christmas."

She leaned forward a little but he met her most of the way, their lips brushing to observe the occasion, the first of many kisses they would share this day.

John's hand sought out Anna's bump, concealed by the covers but not at all hard to find.

"And Merry Christmas to you too, Baby Bates." He dipped his head to give the greeting directly to their precious child, missing the beaming smile that Anna wore in response to his actions. "Thank you for blessing us with your presence."

Anna giggled at his turn of phrase, which he did feel himself was perhaps a little overblown, yet he could not find a better way to put his overwhelming joy into words, at least.

His fingers gently stroked at her stomach in the manner that they had both become accustomed to over the last months.

"And thank you for giving your mama a night of respite."

One arm of Anna's reached out of the cocoon, her hand joining his upon the swell of her stomach, uniting the three of them.

"I don't know what it was that did the trick," she mused, "the carols, perhaps."

"Perhaps," he echoed, unable to stop from grinning. "I did especially enjoy Lady Mary's solo this year."

He did not deny that the words of  _Silent Night_  had particularly affected him, for reasons that were entirely obvious, but it was the pure sentiment of the traditional song too that touched his very soul. After all of the tribulations and storms they had weathered – sometimes thankfully together and others regretfully apart – they were finally amidst the peace and harmony they had mutually desired all along, and he could still not think of a couple who deserved it more than they.

He was not sure of whether his darling wife had seen – though very likely she had, as the smallest of occurrences rarely escaped her notice – but a few tears had left his eyes during the eldest Crawley daughter's rendition hours ago.

"Well, I must say that  _We Three Kings_  was my personal favourite," Anna uttered, the corners of her lips curling in delight, "and I think this one enjoyed it too, hearing their da sing so beautifully."

A hot blush flooded his cheeks, even in the privacy of their bedroom. It was one of the few carols he recalled all of the words to, being one of his mother's favoured tunes.

"I didn't think I could be heard that well. At least, I tried not to stand out."

"You will always stand out to us, Mr Bates."

The beam of her smile was more than enough to rival the sun that was now streaming merrily into the room.

"And I shall always be thankful for that." He kissed her warm cheek and pressed his palm a little more firmly against her bump, feeling their little one awaken to enjoy the day with them.

Sensing the movement better than anyone, Anna began to shift in earnest.

John shook his head, stretching his arms out to ensure that she stayed precisely where she was.

"Breakfast in bed," he answered when she looked at him with some curiosity, "the day calls for it."

"That's very extravagant," she replied, her eyes upon him as he moved around the room with an energy she had become used to seeing him display. "What about crumbs?"

"We can be careful," he smiled. They were not the Crawleys, in many respects. "Mrs Patmore may have equipped me with some provisions especially. Strawberry jam, apricot jam or marmalade?"

Anna gave serious thought for all of a few seconds.

"All three," she said, her eyes sparkling. She met John's amused smile with an answering grin. "I'm still working on the baby's palate. I don't believe they have had either apricot or marmalade yet."

"Certainly," he responded, the warmth within his heart surging up to wrap him in an embrace. "This will be quite the feast."

Together they made their way ably through the tray that was laden with goods, being very careful to keep the falling of crumbs to a minimum. Anna luxuriated in lying in bed until gone nine, a very rare treat indeed but one which seemed fitting for the occasion and which John was determined that she should enjoy, so she certainly did.

She was glad to stretch her legs, moving at a slow pace and still clad in her nightgown when she got downstairs. John must have lit the candles upon their modest tree while he was preparing their breakfast things and she smiled to see the baubles in their different colours shining in the glow, a small fire also burning in the hearth.

Her steps went towards the fireplace, her hand reaching out to touch the toe of the tiny stocking that had been hung there hours previous, guarded on either side by two larger incarnations. She smiled with tears of happiness brimming in her eyes, a pleasant shiver darting the length of her spine as she stroked the soft wool and then the teddy that peeked from the top of the stocking with one hand and cradled her large bump with the other, the recipient of the gifts unaware what was waiting for them.

How she had dreamed, and it was overwhelming in the best way to know that the dream would soon be fulfilled.

She sensed John's eyes upon her, smiling as she glanced over her shoulder.

"We should make it a tradition," he said, his arms wrapping snug around her from behind as he nodded his head towards the little brown bear, "one each year."

"The house would soon be full," she replied, the smile bursting upon her face.

John's chin rested on her shoulder. "Not if they were all as small as this one. Don't tell me you can resist that face."

She pondered for a moment. "I suppose that I can't. He does rather have a look of someone familiar..."

She turned her head enough so that she could glance towards him, seeing him try to appear thoroughly disgruntled at being compared to a stuffed bear.

The candles on the tree bathed them in a golden glow as they stood for a little while, simply appreciating a morning that was wholly theirs. John became rather anxious, nudging Anna towards the settee, and even though she could have been on her feet for a bit longer she sat to appease him. He smiled once more as he crouched to the foot of the tree, bringing out some gifts that lay beneath it.

"John," Anna began, taken entirely by surprise as he held the offerings out towards her, "but we said that...these are..."

"They're only little things," he replied, not put out in the slightest by the look of faint admonishment on her face, which quickly faded to be replaced by a far more joyful expression when she started to carefully unveil the trinkets, "not as much as you deserve of course."

"You silly beggar," she whispered, almost under her breath.

_I have everything I could possibly want._

He sat beside her, watching as she opened the presents one by one, his face lighting just as much as hers did.

"I did say that I wanted to pamper you," he concluded as she had unwrapped the bath salts and new robe, foot lotion, chocolates that were similar to the kind to those that Miss Baxter would later receive, and the two new books – titles that she had wanted to read for some time. "I don't have a lot of time left to do that unreservedly."

Laying the gifts down she clutched both of his hands in hers, rewarding him in the best way she knew how.

She laughed delightedly as he tried on the jumper that she had knitted him, along with the two different scarves – all three together were perhaps a little bit much – and they enjoyed another pot of tea, finishing off the pots of jam between them, one each.

They did make it to the Abbey for midday, Anna wearing the smartest of her non-uniform maternity dresses. She was planning on wearing it again for Lady Edith's wedding in less than a week's time so she hoped that she wouldn't spill any food on it. Mrs Patmore was certain to dish up quite the feast, and she had to admit to being hungry.

They were greeted by their fellow servants as if they had been away for a whole year, never mind only for a morning. Anna was gifted with the biggest smiles from the largely female party, clearing the way to give her precedence. John didn't mind in the slightest, preferring not to have the attention upon him – Anna was worthy of it much more than he was and it gave him the greatest joy to see her being treated as though she was one of the Crawleys. All of the talk upstairs may have been about Lady Edith's fast-impending nuptials, and while it was also a topic of discussion amongst the servants too the arrival of the Bates junior was closer to them, so the matter was of far more excitement and fevered anticipation.

After the Christmas dinner, at which Mrs Patmore had truly excelled herself, there came an exchange of gifts. Daisy gave a new apron and some kitchen utensils to Mrs Patmore, and the young woman blushed as she was presented with a small purse from an equally bashful Andy. Her complaints that she had little need for such an item were swiftly dismissed by the cook, who pointed out that her charge would soon be making her own money and so would need somewhere to put it.

Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson refrained from the ceremony, to the preference of the butler, so Anna presented the gift from herself and John to Miss Baxter, who was not expecting the token. It was not in her nature to make a show about things but her joy and gratitude was clearly felt in her wide smiles and her quiet  _thank yous_ , a final one of which was whispered to Anna before herself and John departed for the evening.

The biggest surprise of all had been saved until last, as Mrs Hughes brought a box wrapped in gold and silver paper out from her room and presented it to Anna and John, who were astounded by their colleagues' generosity. Inside was a beautiful silver wind-up ornament, in the shape of a smiling moon surrounded by stars, which played a number of lullaby melodies when it was fully wound. Anna could not stop herself from crying at the gesture, one of the kindest that she had ever been shown, and did not attempt to blame it on her hormones. John was able to give thanks for the both of them, clinging onto his wife's hand and smiling down at her tears of happiness, feeling the emotion well inside of himself.

They stayed to hear Andy take to the piano and play a couple of merry songs but departed before the parlour games began in earnest. As John rose, ready to assist Anna as she got up from her chair, Mrs Hughes stood with a similar sense of urgency. The housekeeper waited while they put on their coats, and Anna wanted to tell her to go back to the hall but refrained. She walked ahead of them in the opposite direction to whence they had came, stopping when she was a few steps ahead and realising that the couple had not followed behind.

"They were insistent," Mrs Hughes explained, with a soft smile on her face, "Lady Mary especially so."

Anna and John followed the housekeeper out to the grand entrance to the Abbey, a place where they were usually used to standing in line to wordlessly greet guests who arrived with an air of nonchalance, well used to the splendour. Mr Adams, the chauffeur, stood by the door in full uniform, and Anna felt a pang of guilt that the poor man had been called to his duty today of all days, simply to take them on a journey that would take no longer than forty minutes, even if they did walk slower than was usual. He gave them a small nod, as if to say that it was no trouble.

The tree stood towering and glittering beneath the staircase, both of them glancing up at it in all its majesty. The Nutcracker figurine that Anna had placed upon one of its branches – with the help of Master George – caught her attention, and she smiled at the rosy-cheeked face and smart attire.

Before they turned to go Lady Mary came down the stairs, her timing impeccable. She was a little out of breath as she got to the foot, holding out her arms towards her maid.

"Merry Christmas, Anna," she said, offering a quick kiss to Anna's cheek, Anna bowing her head in gratitude and with a touch of surprise. "Bates. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, m'lady," John replied, accepting a handshake from the eldest Crawley daughter.

"I trust that you have had a good day," Lady Mary asked, her flushed cheeks filling with a smile.

"It's been lovely, thank you m'lady," Anna answered, keeping her gaze upon her mistress while feeling her husband's eyes smiling towards her, his dignified silence voicing his agreement. "I hope that yours has been just as special."

Lady Mary nodded, her hands clasped. "Yes, quite. Lady Edith has been insufferable, of course. And we must put up with it for several days yet."

Anna and John exchanged a glance, certain that she was teasing for the most part.

"I must admit that Bertie is a darling, however. I'm grateful that he should be such an influence upon my dear sister." Her shoulders relaxed and her fingers untangled. "You need not come back until the evening tomorrow. In fact, if I see you here before five then I shall send for Adams to ferry you straight back again."

She had already been informed that Lady Mary would not be joining the ride out on Boxing Day, likely on the request of Lady Edith who was keen to avoid any potential injury ahead of the wedding, but assumed that she would still be joining the family on a walk around the estate.

"If you're sure you don't require anything, m'lady."

"Baxter will be able to see to it if I should. And there is also Mr Talbot. He does have skills that stretch beyond tinkering with car engines."

Anna smiled, doing her best not to flush. "That's very kind. As is arranging a car to see us home. There really was no need..."

"Of course there was," Lady Mary interjected before she could finish, "it is near to freezing out there, and so it is unthinkable to have you walking. Don't you agree, Bates?"

John straightened further as he was addressed, though remnants of his warm smile made their way through his otherwise staid expression.

"Certainly, m'lady," he exclaimed, a lilting ring to his tone.

Though she still felt somewhat uncomfortable taking up the favour Anna was glad that the journey took considerably less time than it would have done if they were to go by foot, and that it was far warmer too. Mr Adams was good enough to drive them as close to the cottage as he was able, and they both wished the chauffeur the best for the rest of the season.

Anna let out an audible sigh once they were inside, sealed in for the night with not a bit of the chill to bother them. As lovely as it was to spend the afternoon and some of the evening with their friends at the Abbey there really was no place like home.

John helped her with her coat and hat before he removed his own, smiling down at her as he took the scarf from round her neck. His hands rubbed at her sleeves with the aim of warming her up more rapidly, and he was in no great rush to stop.

Once she smiled and insisted that she was warm enough she watched as he moved towards the front room, no doubt with the intention of lighting the candles on the tree once more.

"Do you mind if I go up?" She had felt quite alert when they had been at the Abbey and even on the ride home, but in the last ten minutes a wave of exhaustion had hit her. "I know it's only early."

"Of course I don't mind," he responded, that same warm tone of his washing over her. "Shall I bring up some tea?"

"I was thinking of a bath, first."

"A very good idea," John smiled a smile that made his eyes crinkle. "Let me see you there. And then," he stretched his palms across her shoulders as he guided her towards the stairs, "time for some tea."

She did not have to do anything other than undress, as John saw to the water and gathered the towels, lighting the lamps so there was enough visibility in the room. He brought up the bath salts too upon Anna's request; there was little point in not making use of the gift straightaway. The water felt wonderful upon her skin, cloaking her in further warmth and gently easing the aches that had built gradually throughout the day.

The only disadvantage was that John could not join her in knowing how marvellous the water was, but he stayed beside her as she luxuriated, perched on a stool and talking, then intermittently reading passages from one of the volumes that he had gifted her. In that moment, with the crystals gathering in little clusters around her knees and ankles, she could not envisage an image of Heaven that was any closer, nor more complete. She would have quite easily stayed there all night, all of her senses catered to, if it wasn't for the eventual cooling of the water and her skin growing wrinkled.

Her laughter filled the room as he helped her out of the bath, wrapping her with towels and then her new robe – which was the softest garment she had ever felt against her skin – taking extra care in drying off her bump. The baby had livened up while they were at the Abbey, becoming aware of the occasion as well as all the attention that was being showered upon them, but the water had had a calming effect and now the rolling felt as normal as Anna had become used to.

She waited for John to wash and change before she got into bed herself, well-occupied with reading – though the book was not quite so absorbing when the words were not read in her husband's voice. He smiled as he finished off towelling his hair, unable to spend another second away from her. Her hands were spread over her stomach on the top of her nightgown, the covers pushed back to allow John to climb in. She gasped and then smiled contentedly as he lowered his head to press a kiss to the swell, able to feel his own smile against the fabric which covered her freshly-washed skin.

"Have you had a happy Christmas, little one?"

A swift kick against his palm answered the father-to-be's question, and the pair of them laughed.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." He smoothed his hands upon Anna's stomach, covering every inch with tender caresses before dipping to leave a series of small kisses there. For her part Anna stroked her hand against her husband's head, his soft hair rifling through her fingers. "And you, my love?"

"It's been wonderful," she nodded, looking into his eyes, filled with adoration, and feeling her own filling fast. "Oh, Lord, what on earth am I crying for?"

"It's been quite the day," John assured her, making his way to the head of the bed, sidling close to her side and throwing the covers over them both. "And they are good tears. At least, I hope they are."

She nodded again. "They are. I can't say there won't be more. I'm not sure I'll be back to myself for a while, not if what Lady Mary and Gwen have said is anything to go by."

The birth of a child brought about all manner of emotions, some more fearful than others, but after everything they'd been through in the past few years she couldn't imagine that it would be anything that was too much to bear. She looked to cherish every moment of motherhood, and she was certain that John would do the same in his new role.

He pressed his lips to the back of her neck and she felt peace descend, all in the centre of one kiss.

"You'll be something more than yourself," he uttered, bringing an arm to circle around her waist and its accompanying hand to rest on her stomach, very much at home, "and I think that will be the most wonderful thing I've ever known."

"Do you want to send me into floods on Christmas Day, John Bates?"

He chuckled, nuzzling against the crook of her neck. "No, my love. I should have brought the chocolates upstairs to appease you."

"We've got to have something to look forward to," she said, her eyes closing as she rested against the bulk of her husband's frame.

"Other than a lie-in tomorrow?"

"Other than that."

He smiled against her skin. "I don't know what else there could be possibly be."

"I'm sure there are things we haven't thought of," she murmured, her hand joining his against her bump.

"I'm sure you're right."

It was still early when she drifted off to sleep but she couldn't have complained about not seeing out the day; it had certainly been one to remember, for all of the right reasons.

John joined his wife in a peaceful slumber soon after, holding her in his arms as well as their precious child, and it was dreams of the three of them gathered around a shining tree that filled his head that silent night.

Happier dreams he had never had, and it was not long at all to wait until they were fulfilled.

**Author's Note:**

> Avid readers might recognise a nod to an earlier Christmas ficlet of mine, The Night Before Christmas, which is set in canon during S6 so I wanted to reference it here seeing as it is one and the same Christmas.
> 
> I feel like I may have run out of steam towards the end, but hopefully it still reads okay.
> 
> Merry Christmas to Kristen_APA, and A/B fans everywhere!


End file.
